Lunchtime WTF
I went to Chappy's Deli for lunch. Instead of taking the isolated table for one that I normally sit at, I let the manager sit me at a table for 4 (it's your restaurant, bub, you can let me take up valuable lunch rush real estate if you want to). He seemingly seated me next to a table for 8 with the weekly meeting of the geriatric KKK. THICK southern accents now mostly only heard amongst those over 60, blathering on about how bad Obama and his socialistic ways were ruining the country. Then in the next sentence praising their social security and medicare. I quickly tuned them out and went back to reading Moby Dick and eating my patty melt and fries.
As I was getting ready to leave around 12, the heavy lunch crowd started coming in, and there was a delicious blond cub in his early-to-mid 20s, wearing a shirt emblazoned (so I assume) of a sports team motto: Fear the Bear. Oh, cubby, if you only knew!
As I was getting ready to leave around 12, the heavy lunch crowd started coming in, and there was a delicious blond cub in his early-to-mid 20s, wearing a shirt emblazoned (so I assume) of a sports team motto: Fear the Bear. Oh, cubby, if you only knew!